


Other Worlds, Other Customs

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Series: Mathomathon 2008 [2]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake offers Ro the use of Orac once he discovers Ro's people based their culture on the Silmarillion and would consider Orac a silmaril.</p><p>The results are not what Blake expected.</p><p>(Mention of gayness & attraction between two men, but nothing more than mentions, so I felt rating would just confuse things.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Other Worlds, Other Customs

**Author's Note:**

> Hobbits give gifts to others on their birthday. A Mathom is a useless, but too good to throw away, Hobbit gift. Like a knick knack.
> 
> Back in 2008 I held a Mathomathon on my LJ for my birthday, asking my friends to request me to write fic. I wound up starting the day before my birthday, so none of them are long, but everyone got a fic. :^)
> 
> LJ user executrix's prompt: _Blakes7: after Horizon, the Liberator returns to the planet, but Ro says he won't help out unless Blake makes it worth his while._

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Blake had seen Ro in his ceremonial robes briefly, but the effect remained impressive on his second visit. The feathers rustled and smelled slightly musty, and Ro's eyes behind the mask were as stern and cold as those of any primitive deity.

"You see," Blake said while standing in front of Ro in an audience chamber (hastily resurrected from disuse, if the lines of dust swept in the floor were any indication.) "So long as Horizon remains a source of monopasium, the Federation will have a strong incentive to return."

"What is that to us?" Ro replied. "The defense barriers will keep them out."

"True, but you'll be isolated from the rest of the universe."

"The rest of the universe has nothing we need."

"I'm sure that's not so. You can obviously survive without trade, but wouldn't you like a better life for your people? Modern medicine, education, labor-saving devices? The mines could easily be fully automated; you need scarely know my people are there."

"Oh, but we would know. We are not about to enter a new type of slavery." Ro lifted his hand as if to dismiss Blake. Beside him, Selma stirred. Ro paused and looked at her.

Selma said, "By the ancient laws, we do owe Blake and his crew."

Ro looked at her for a long moment. "The ancient laws do not require an alliance, but I do acknowledge the debt. Blake and his people may enjoy our hospitality for two weeks." Ro moved his hand towards Blake. "I would not advise going beyond the palace grounds for your own safety, but within it, you may call upon the services of any of my people." The audience was clearly at an end.

"Thank you." Blake accepted the half a loaf with dignity. At least they would be able to rest and recover in safety. And possibly Ro could be persuaded.

B7B7B7

"I don't know why you don't go back to calling your world Silmarino," Vila said, while munching on an exotic fruit. "I mean, Horizon's a nice name, but it's not as if you chose it, now is it? If a Federation commissioner had told my mum to rename me Jon she would have let them put it on the papers, but I'd still have Vila on my name-card at the feast-day table."

"Vila," Blake said, deeply regretting the impulse to allow the entire crew rest and recreation on the planet. "Haven't you had enough wine?"

"No." Vila poured himself another glass. "And it's very good wine, too. You could export this and make a nice profit. What's it made of?"

"The same fruit you've been eating, Vila." Ro didn't seem either disturbed or amused by Vila's remarks. He picked up a fruit and turned it over in his hand, examining it, its bright orange color vivid against the deep blue of his feather-covered garments. "It's said to have remarkable properties when prepared according to the proper rituals."

Avon had been listening idly. "How remarkable?"

Ro smiled. His mask made it difficult to see, but it was in his voice. "Oh, it's supposed to nourish you when there's nothing else to eat, give you remarkable stamina and healing powers, make your bow arm stronger, that sort of thing."

"Bow?" Cally looked up with interest from the fruit she was sectioning. "I have only seen blow-pipes. Do your people practice archery as well?"   
Ro laughed for the first time. "No. When we first arrived, people tried, but natural conditions made it impractical to live up to that part of the legend. You see, Silmarino was founded by an obscure sect of adherents to an ideal espoused in our holy book, the Silmarillion."

"That's very interesting," Blake said, his mind racing at the possibilities. "If it wouldn't be against your beliefs, could I read it?"

Ro shrugged. "The copies we have are all far too old to be actually read. Priests say they have it memorized, but you'd have to listen for months to hear it all. You probably already have access to it. It was published in the old calendar originally. It fell out of disfavor, but I don't believe it was ever actually proscribed. It was, as my people _were,_ highly impractical."

B7B7B7

"I can't see the good it will do, but here," Avon said, depositing a data cube on Blake's desk. "The Silmarillion was a work of _fiction_ , a fantasy purporting to be a history... not all that much unlike the purported histories of the current Federation, actually. Well, except that our dragons and faeries are human." Avon flashed Blake an insincere smile and left. Ever since he'd discovered Blake was gay, Avon enjoyed making little gibes—so far only in private. Blake didn't much care who knew about his sexuality, so he was only mildly annoyed by Avon's teasing.

Blake found the text unfathomable, but there were references to related works which gave Blake insight into the culture as he skimmed them. He pondered for a while, and then he took Orac down to Horizon where he set it on a table in front of Ro.

Ro peered at Orac without much interest. "So, this is a very advanced computer. We have no need for such." 

"It's more than a computer," Blake said. "It can gather information from practically anywhere in the universe, and use that information to create predictions. It is, in your parlance, a silmaril."

Ro froze. Blake could see that he'd even stopped breathing. Not a feather stirred for a long moment. "And you offer this to me?"

"Well, access to it while we're here." 

"And I may make whatever use of it I see fit, with no interference?" Ro left his throne and moved to stand over Orac.

"Yes. Would you like me to demonstrate its capabilities?"

"No, I know very well how to operate a computer."

Blake shrugged inwardly. As temperamental as Orac was, it would still generally obey a direct command, and Ro was certainly capable of that. "Yes, well, if you have any difficulties, either Avon or I should be able to assist you."

Ro nodded. "Leave it with me. I will give you my decision on the alliance after I test your claims."

"All right." Blake showed Ro the key. "Just insert this, and then you can ask it whatever you like."

Ro waited until Blake had gone, and then he picked up the key and examined it closely before inserting it into the slot.

Orac came to life with a whine. "What is it? Be precise! My time is far too valuable to waste!"

Ro asked, "Is it true that you are a silmaril?"

Orac fussed for several seconds. "That is a gross misdefinition. I am far beyond the primitive devices described in the literature to which I presume you refer."

Ro nodded. "I see." He went over to the wall and rang a bell for his attendants. "You will be treated as our ancestors would have wished." He pulled the key free and laid it on the table.

B7B7B7

Blake stared in horror at the smoking, stinking mass of melted Perspex. "Why?"

Ro took off his mask and looked at Blake. "Between you and me, the old religion has its flaws, but they were quite sensible on this point. A silmaril destroys those in close contact with it, and must be either totally isolated—in the heart of a volcano for choice—or if at all possible, destroyed. Fortunately, yours wasn't indestructible, although it did kill three of my men before we managed it."

"But it was useful! I needed it!"

Ro shrugged. "Well, you'll have to get along without it, and rely on people instead. I'm prepared to offer you that limited alliance now, Blake."

Blake sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Yes, all right. Avon won't be pleased."

Ro looked at Blake and smiled. "You really should try relying on him in particular. He did come down for _you_ , didn’t he?"

"Yes. Yes, he did." Blake suddenly smiled. Maybe Avon was hinting, not teasing. Awkward bastard, he would be the type not to know how to ask for companionship. "I think you're right, Ro. This could be the start of a good relationship.... between the rebellion and Horizon, of course."

"Of course." Ro smiled.


End file.
